Mine
by ButterflyAlley
Summary: She mourned her father. She mourned Dean and Sam and even Castiel. Elizabeth retired from the life, finished her degree and became a teacher, safe and miserable. What happens when a mysterious gift appears on her desk and she's faced with the reality that they weren't really dead? Will she decide being abandoned was better than being owned Dean Winchester forever? DeanxOFC
1. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

Curious brown eyes fell, squinting, onto something completely new.

A conspicuous purple box with pink flowers demanded attention from the center of her muted work space. She blinked, and her eyes darted around room 2-B, tucked into very end of the third-grade hallway, but there was no trace of anyone. Elizabeth set down the left-over craft sticks from the day's activity and slipped her fingers around the box to pick it up. She flipped its weight from one hand the next. It felt like cardboard, light in weight and her heart fluttered as she debated opening it. A phantom from her past advised against it, _**don't be an idjit.**_

Was it even for her anyway? Had a student left it? A little note fell from the wispy white ribbon encircling it and answered that question but left her already anxious mind whirled in its wake.

 _ **Lizzie.**_

The only people who called her that were dead, their memories blown into the wind like rust off the old cars from her father's yard. The decision to let them go is what brought her to this place, this job. A flash of green recognition filled her vision, but disappeared into a haze of grey and then, all at once, her eyes refocused on the box. A rush of adrenaline overcame her and with a bounce she ripped open the mysterious gift.

Inside the box was a square of scratchy cotton, the kind that frequently lived inside cheap jewelry boxes. The suggestion of a student leaving the gift and using 'Lizzie' to sound more familiar rang from the quality of the packaging. But then, a glimmer jolted Elizabeth where she stood.

A gorgeous ring stared flatly back at her. The yellow band housed three stones, a large perfectly carved emerald was accompanied between two fiery, round diamonds. She chanced another look around, to see if anyone had experienced the grown woman almost faint at the size of it. Surely it was fake.

Her next thought, the idea of a secret admirer, thrilled her but felt incredibly unlikely. The elementary school teacher had only moved to this little town a month ago and had barely spoken to anyone other than the other teachers. Most of whom were married or engaged, and well, all women. Not that she judged, but in this backwards Texas town, it seemed doubtful.

Elizabeth spent a lot of time trying to blend in, one didn't live the life she came from without learning basic survival techniques. She was a run-of-the-mill American 20-something by appearance. In her prime she had tight muscles, and a thin sharp face but in her retirement, she'd grown soft. Her legs felt like little stubs under her shapeless dresses, picked out especially for deterring attention.

All in all, receiving a gift of this magnitude seemed completely bizarre. And if it seemed way too good to be true, it probably was.

The teacher stuffed the lid back on the box and threw it in her bag, careful not to touch the piece of jewelry. Her watch blinked 4:55 PM and on a Friday that meant leaving the rest of the work for Monday. It took two trips to get all the papers and supplies into her car for the weekend but after 30 minutes of huffing bags up and down the long hallway, she really wondered how someone got in and out of her room so fast. Panic engulfed her and threatened to suffocate her right there in the parking lot.

 _ **Demons.**_

But how did they find her? Why would they even want her anymore? The only spectacular thing about her was dead, taking with him any hope they could use her to get anything. For a moment the panic subsided, deadened by the memory of all her loss, but she still climbed into her car and sped away. Elizabeth found herself absent-mindedly rubbing a little spot on her wrist. She pulled comfort from the old anti-possession tattoo that didn't get much use these days, aside from reminding her of him and forcing her to wear band-aids every day to work.

A long fifteen minutes of driving and Top 40 later, the tires of her old beat up Buick squealed onto the driveway of her little house. Salt stones lined the exterior of her home inconspicuously and beautifully crafted iron bars on her windows looked like a decorative touch on the century old house. In the town of Granbury, Texas, old demon warded houses were a dime a dozen. It was real poetic justice for her, to live in a city that would send any seasoned hunter into a fit. The old town was legendary death place of Jesse James and John Wilks-Boothe, and it seemed too perfect when she was looking for a place to start over. Admittedly, moving to an old west town felt like the perfect way to honor him, while still moving on with her life.

Elizabeth decided the grading and lesson plans could wait until Sunday and she grabbed only her purse and walked with a still panicked haste to the door; unlocking it, jumping in and re- locking it behind her. Her back rested against the Devil's trap carved into the interior of the door. Making it look like a beautiful piece of art was only half done, but it was effective none the less. Her lips let out a relieved breath when the lights flickered, but decided to stay lit. The A/C squeaked, the faucet dripped constantly, and she yearned to have her handy man back, but it was home. _Elizabeth Winchester_ garnished the deed, her new name for her new life.

She shimmied out of her too tight heels and scratchy, lifeless dress before peeling off her latest band-aid. She grinned a little to herself and started humming an old song as she gathered her nightly routine. Her fuzzy pajamas called to her from the second drawer of her dresser and she felt as though she was merging with them as she pulled them on. Wine seemed like the most acceptable next choice as she buried herself into the cloud of a 100% genuine leather Ashley sofa and white large wool knit blanket.

It was a life she was never destined for, and Elizabeth almost got away with it. She almost had the apple-pie life he had always wanted; but then she remembered the purple box. That gorgeous ring and after too many glasses of wine, there didn't seem any more reason to deny herself the luxury.

Her drunken feet pulled her without permission to the door where her purse sat, unassuming. There were fingers clumsily pushing through her bag in a fog that she blamed on the wine and eventually struck cardboard. Examining it closely was incredible, it was exactly the ring she had always wanted. No one alive knew the details of her silly white wedding aspirations. The eerie-feeling that lingered from hours before left her, and a calm flushed over her as if the piece of gold itself told her not to worry. Maybe even death would be better than living without them. She took a deep breath and pressed the ring, just her size, over knuckle and all the way down her finger.

Her chest jerked back against a tidal wave that ripped the oxygen from her lungs. She collapsed onto the floor and fought hard against the air that taunted her as she pulled herself back to the couch and tried to stand. Little black pin pricks filled her vision and soon she feared she would be completely enveloped in darkness. Time was running out. The ring surged with an energy that felt familiar but suffocated her still. A heat from her chest exploded, threading through the window of her home as if it tethered her to something.

Loud ringing started like a siren in a storm and for a moment Elizabeth didn't know if it was an illusion or salvation. In the kitchen, a light flashed from a drawer and vibrations shook the cabinets, as she clawed, half unconscious to it. She grasped at her shirt, ripping it to relieve the pressure but it did nothing. Shaking, she hit the drawer handle and with her last bit of strength jerked it out and down onto herself. The contents littered her linoleum floor, but a small black phone grabbed her attention. She couldn't have answered faster if she had still been in control.

"Lizzie, BREATHE."

A fierce wind rushed into her lungs, expanding them so much it hurt. Her heart, beating in her ears, slowed and after finally regaining a semi-even breath she looked down to the small electronic thing in her hands.

"Dean?" She said, gruff and breathless. The phone clicked.

Elizabeth dragged her heavy eyes around her little house; she saw the mess of things that came crashing out of the drawer all around her, the ripped shirt, and her purse spilled next to the door. Her mind rushed with every set of circumstances, theories, next steps. She sighed.

 _SPNSPNSPNSPN_

Day light warmed her face and tickled her nose. Her brown eyes watery and still heavy blinked open. Pounding came from her head and she slowly sat up, grabbing at her forehead to steady her muddy vision. Her stomach bottomed out and she thought she might pass out again. What had she done? Bobby Singer flashed into her head and yelled at her for being, "So gosh darn stupid." But the tongue lashing she received from the memory of her father was right. It was that god forsaken wine. She knew she was a light weight, but recently she just didn't care.

Her knees slid across the thick carpet and she fished around in the couch cushions for her phone; a smartphone, with a contract. It seemed so silly to be so happy about bureaucracy, but the flutter in her heart was there when she found the cold rectangle under the throw pillow. Flicking on the screen she stopped.

 _ **Sunday September 16th, 2012.**_

She had slept, splayed out on the kitchen floor, for over 24 hours. Suddenly, she was very aware of the presence emanating from the ring on her finger. After she had worked so hard to leave that life, she was now thrown back into it without any back up. No Dad, no Sam, no Dean, not even Castiel.

But wait. Was it really Dean's voice on the phone? Dean's phone. She ran to the kitchen and found the little black phone resting on the weathered linoleum floor. Her fingers opened the device and flipped through the last phone number and hit send.

 _ **Riiiiing. Riiiiing. Riiiiing.**_

"Hello, thank you for calling the Contempra Inn, New Orleans. The room you're trying to reach is unavailable and has requested no phone calls be let through. Thank you."

The message droned on for what her dry mouth thought was as eternity, a swallow stuck in the back of her throat but not daring to move. No voicemail picked up and soon she threw the useless piece of plastic across the room. Fear engulfed her like a fire, tears stung behind her eyes and she crawled defeated to back onto her couch. Slowly she picked up her shiny smartphone and went through the same ritual she had for the past 2 years.

"You've reached Dean's Phone-"

"You've reached Dean's oth-" "You've reached Dean's other, oth-."

"Hello?"

She stopped. She looked down at the number she had dialed, it was Sam's.

"S-Sam?" Elizabeth heard the crack in her own voice, but it couldn't be him. He was dead. He had to be dead. If he wasn't that meant he had left her alone and scared. Her mind flashed back to the Leviathan exploding, pulling Dean and Castiel with it. A strong blow to the back of her head had plunged her into a thick, humid darkness. When she finally awoke, it was weeks later in a hospital, and after calling every number they had for close to six months she gave up ever seeing them again.

"Lizzie?"

"Sam, is that you? How are you alive? What's happening? I need help. There's this ring and I passed out and I lost a whole day and-"

"Lizzie, it's okay. Where are you?"

"Home."

"Where is that?"

"Granbury, Texas."

"Do you have an address?"

"Oh yeah."

The words dribbled off her numbing lips and into sticky air of uncertainty that surrounded her. He saidthey were coming, her mind raced, but she wasn't paying attention. Her mind shut off and if she were being honest with herself she'd admit she thought all this was a bad dream.

Still on auto-pilot her hands graded papers, packed up her gear and packed her car for the next day of work. At 8 o'clock she grabbed another bottle and downed the whole thing with no glass and no TV.

 _ **Briiizzz. Briiiiizzz.**_

Her alarm jolted her into the world of the living; her eyes heavier and crustier than the morning before. Elizabeth didn't think of the ring or of the phone call. She got up and dressed for work, showered and fixed her hair, only flinching a moment when the stone caught her sweater and pulled a thread.

She sighed.

Children are very receptive to the energy around them. Little eyes peered over books and seemed to absorb her emotions like brand new sponges. Sometimes that meant they would test her, act up and see just how far they could get. Today no one raised their voice or spoke back. No one tested her.

When recess finally came, she sat silently and watched the kids laugh and run. The other teachers gave her space, she told them she was cramping and had a horrible hangover and they accepted it. They weren't bad women and if she had to form an opinion, it was a good one.

"Mrs. Winchester?" A small voice pierced through her cloud and grabbed her attention immediately. It jerked her from her faraway place, but she was grounded immediately by what she saw. "These men wanna talk to you, they're from the FBI!" The studious boy was proud to bring the Agents to his teacher, but she knew who they really were.

"Mrs. Winchester, we'd just like to ask you a few questions about an incident, is there somewhere we can go?" The taller man in a black suit asked, his brown hair always too shaggy to be professional. But her eyes weren't locked on him just now.

"Are you in trouble?!"

"Thank you, Jimmy. You can go now." She stood up, not taking her eyes off him. He looked... the same. Those green eyes piercing her and challenging her reality. It was the same cheap suit, the same hair cut the same man. It couldn't be. Was it a demon? A Leviathan? It couldn't be him, but it was, she could feel it. She could hear it. She could... hear it?

 _ **It's me, Lizzie, it's really me.**_

His voice echoed through the walls of her mind, where only the sound of her own had tread. The smoky, rich, deep voice that soothed her nightmares and confessed his love. The same voice that she had heard on voicemail repeat for months. Her eyes filled with tears and she barely pulled them into a nearby work room before losing her composure.

"Elizabeth Winchester, huh?" He chided with a side smile. She stood frozen.

"Dean?"

Her mind stopped, her breathing caught in her throat. Her knees gave out and she grasped the work bench to keep from hitting the ground. He was alive. He was alive and in front of her. "How long?"

"How long wh-"

She stood up straight. "How long have you been alive?" Her voice demanded it, but still cracked from the rampage of emotion that hit her like a hurricane. The act normally fostered a rage from the pit of her stomach, but today it didn't seem important.

"A year."

"A... a..." Elizabeth took two steps toward him, his smile widened, her hand raised and pulled back with the intent of connecting with his smug face. Then the electricity hit her muscles in a flash of paralyzing pain. She cried out and fell to the floor.

"LIZZIE!" Dean fell to her and grabbed her close to him. The smell of roses filled his mouth, he shuddered under the weight of it. His Lizzie, she was here, in his arms again. He buried his face in her hair as she recovered, so mad at himself for what he had done.

"What was that?" She groaned as she sat up, pulling from his arms and steadying herself.

"Is it okay if we leave here? I think it'd be best if we talked about this somewhere safe." Sam said smoothly, comforting. She nodded as she stood, taking the first step out of the teacher's lounge and toward her room. Straightening her dress, she thanked God her muscles remembered where to go.

"Where are you going, I thought the ex-"

"My room is this way, I have to get my purse and get a sub. I can't just leave the kids alone. Could you imagine being abandoned by someone you trusted?" Her words were loaded, and she was a bit mad at herself for being so guarded when all she wanted was to wrap her arms around Dean and take him right there in the yellow hallway.

He flinched at her venomous response, but the pain he caused her was palpable. The smell of bitter cleaning supplies and the sound of children filled his senses and for a moment it felt like any other job. But he knew it wasn't. They stopped in front of a door with WINCHESTER in big letters, surrounded by little ghosts with names on them. He wanted to laugh at the whole thing, but the cinder block in his stomach kept him sullen. Sam stood back, tall and observant. He honestly just didn't know what to do next. His guilt wrapped a vice around his heart that tightened with every breath that caught in Lizzie's throat.

Her fingers wrapped familiarly around her key ring and twisted the lock open. Stepping into the dark room, she pivoted to face the switch and turned on the lights. She logged into a computer on a desk that was adjacent to the door and submitted a form for a replacement. Soon, the telephone hanging between the desk and the door sprang to life. Quickly, she grabbed at the handset and yanked it off the receiver, "Yes, Mrs. Winchester. I got your form, is everything alright?" The secretary said, with a thick central Texas accent.

"Yes, some men from the FBI want to question me for an incident I witnessed a few nights ago. I'll try to be back by tomorrow." Elizabeth hung up the phone and grabbed her bags, struggling once again to carry all her things and headed to the door.

"Can I help you with those?" Sam asked, but Dean ran to her side and pulled the largest tote from her shoulder. It was silent for the most part as they exited the building, she was afraid if she let herself speak the flood gates would open and drown them all in its wake. Dean took her in, her skin pale as her little paper ghosts, as they walked through the strange building she navigated with ease. He saw her interact with strangers like they were her best friends and it killed him not to know. The whole little life she built herself without him.

"Hey, Winchester!" A big, male voice boomed through the hallway. All three spun around and met face to face with a tall man in a track suit. A whistle dangling from his neck, a clipboard under his large, dark arm.

"Hey, Glenn, I'm just on my way out." Elizabeth said, motioning toward the door. Dean could hear the struggle in her voice to make it sound nonchalant, and he could feel the turmoil in her stomach. Hearing his name describe her filled him with pride but broke his heart into pieces. **Not like this** , he thought.

"Are you gonna be all right? You need me to come, too?" Glenn stepped closer to the three, puffing out his chest a little in her defense. She gave him a smile, a genuine smile that broke Dean's heart even more. Elizabeth shook her head and thanked him. He wasn't surprised at her brushing him off, in the month he tried to get to know her better, she completely shut him down. Gave some story about a fallen soldier husband, but he nodded in response and reminded her that she always had his number. Elizabeth knew the goodbye was too long, a little too forlorn, but something told her this could be the last time they spoke. Glenn had been so good to her, and she wondered what their future would have been like if she had only said yes to his advances.

Sam raised his eyebrows and felt the disgust coming from his brother.

 _ **C'est le Vie**_ , she thought to herself.

 _ **I'll c'est his vie, asshole.**_

The voice echoed again only to her and she flipped her entire body toward Dean with a visceral reaction. His face filled with shock, green eyes the size of tea saucers, but she quickly flitted her own eyes to the ground. Embarrassed for reacting so outwardly to a voice in her own head.

She broke from Glenn and continued out of the building as the brothers followed. A smile creeped onto her lips at the sight of the black beauty parked next to her baby. The sparkling of the paint job reminding her how long it had been since she gave her own car the TLC it needed. Before she could stop herself, her hand smoothed over a section of the hood just above the headlight. It warmed her fingers and tickled down to her toes. Another ghost from her past to haunt her. A hot, rough hand rested onto the small of her back and she jumped three feet into the air.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"Let's just go, follow me."

The time spent alone in her car driving home was enough to bring her a little closer to acceptance, but not near enough to forgive. Her old tires squeaked over the salt threshold of her driveway the same as it had for months, but this time it brought with it the beautiful purr of a 1967 Impala. When she finally shut off the engine and opened her door, the men were already pacing the patio. She didn't know how she would react to Dean. To Sam. But she knew it would be tears, _more tears_ , like there hadn't been enough already. How could they even be here? She saw Dean get pulled into Purgatory with Dick. She called them three times a day for months. Did they ignore her? Did they decide they didn't want her around anymore? Did Dean come back and realize how horrible she really was, how much better he could do?

 _ **It wasn't like that, baby.**_

"Stop it! I don't know what you're doing or how you're doing it but PLEASE STOP!" Elizabeth yelled out right there in her own front yard. Sam backed away from trying to grab a bag from the car, but Dean sighed. He hated himself for what he had to do.

She dragged her feet all the way to the door, thumbing her key ring with clumsy motions. The lock finally clicked, and the door pushed open, her eyes scanning the room and she huffed when she realized she had forgotten to clean up. "I'm sorry, it's normally so clean." She bent over to start picking things up as the brothers awkwardly filed in behind her, shutting the door. Her fingers grazed over the purple box and reflexively recoiled, like the box itself almost killed her.

"Lizzie, it's okay, we really need to talk." Sam said, she finished gathering the things she already had in her hands threw them onto the dining room table behind the sofa. They sat on the matching love seat pressed against the living room wall that lined the kitchen and took in their friend's new home.

Sam admired the little house, old but beautiful and so full of potential. The floor was hardwood, the little nicks could be easily buffed out, and the great room lead into the rest of the house with two rounded archways on either side of a small love seat. His favorite was the big picturesque window in the front of the house overlooking the front yard, letting in light and perfectly dressed in shear white curtains. He ran his rough hands over the leather love seat and really wished it was his own.

Dean muffed and tried to ignore his surroundings; the home he'd never have, created by the woman he was never supposed to have again. His eyes focused on one spot, and as hard as he tried to push everything out he still saw it. The little metal frame on the side table housing a photo of him with a rosary hanging from the corner. A cross standing tall next to it with a picture of them the night before they went to kill Lucifer. The night before Jo and Ellen died. They had burned it, but weeks later Lizzie redeveloped the film. He hated it, but she really couldn't let it go. They had fought over it.

Elizabeth walked into the room with a tray of mugs and a short glass. She handed them a mug each with steaming, hot black coffee and kept the glass of clear liquid for herself. Water? She swigged it back and shuttered. Vodka.

"Wow, Liz." Dean said patronizingly, unimpressed with her new-found drinking habit. He could see into her mind, all the empty bottles she had just stashed in the garage outside the kitchen door. "Didn't Bobby tell you how easy it is for your family to get addicted?"

"You have no place to tell me how to live my life Dean Winchester. So, we're here, talk. I, personally, have been spilling my heart to a voicemail box and picture of my supposedly dead family for TWO YEARS so excuse me if I don't have much to say." Her words stung. They stung coming off her lips and they stung entering the boys' ears.

She regretted saying it so harshly, but she meant it. Since she woke up in the hospital, she had called all of their phones at least once a day when she didn't know where else to go. Now she was completely mortified. They had been listening to her confessions, her droning, this whole time. She took her head in her hands to hide the redness and angry tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

"Liz-"

"Don't call me that, I'm not your Lizzie anymore."

"No, You're Mrs. Elizabeth Winchester now, third grade teacher, wife of some dead US soldier, aren't you?" Dean snapped, mad that he hadn't given her that name himself. Almost mad he wasn't a dead soldier, if only to have her as his wife.

"You were dead, Dean! I saw you get swallowed into purgatory and then I woke up WEEKS later in a hospital and no one was there. I called Sam for days, I even called you and prayed to Cas. There was NO ONE. I was alone, and I had to move on. I picked that name because I thought I'd never see you again, I thought that would be as close as I would ever get to a life with you. I picked this town because it had so much 'old west' history, they even have a PIE AND BEER festival every year. I finished college and became a teacher because that was _our_ dream. I even moved into this stupid little shack because we always talked about fixing a house up. I lived for you Dean. You were dead, and I _still LIVED_ for you." By now tears poured from her eyes. She got up and stormed into her bedroom, slamming the door and crawling under her huge comforter.

If she could just go to sleep it would be over. This isn't real, it can't be. They're dead and it's this ring messing with her mind, it's a cursed object. It was the only explanation for the air being pulled from her lungs, and the voice that sounded like Dean invading her thoughts. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and sighed, deciding she was still asleep on the kitchen floor. Maybe if she went to sleep, she'd wake up and then she could hunt down the person responsible for cursing her. "Anything to get this goddamned ring off."

She went to pull at it again and the electricity from earlier hit her, causing her to scream. Black engulfed her again, and this time Sam ran in to check on her. Dean remained on the sofa, he didn't move. He didn't speak. He hated himself.

When she woke up it was dark, and she was wrapped up in her bed all clothes still on, not in her kitchen in her pajamas. Hazily she wondered if she had fallen asleep drinking again and the whole thing had been a hallucination, but then she heard the men in her livingroom.

"You have to tell her, man." Sam pleaded.

"I will okay?! She already hates me, she's going to hate me so much more when I tell her." Dean responded, his voice was muffled, like the last part he spoke through his hands. Elizabeth pulled the covers down and put her feet on the floor. When she placed her hands beside her to push up, her covers caught and pulled on the ring.

"Ouch!" Her eyes focused on the ring. The ring. It was perfect, it was exactly what she told him she wanted. He didn't. Fury drove her through the door and down the hall before physical thought caught up to her, he figured that's how she'd caught him off guard. Her arms were out stretched before he had time to stop her. The bolt hit her deep into her core and she crumpled immediately, but this time she stayed conscious. Dean fell to his knees beside her and pulled her up to him, lulling her head onto his shoulder tenderly.

"Li-Elizabeth. Please, I know how hard this is, but you have to listen to me for a minute, okay?" He pleaded, she nodded, weakly. "It was Crowley," Her body tensed, "There was rumor he was trying to put together a spell. I had to stop him, I tried everything but there was only one way." Her thoughts collected as his words weighed down her chest. "It was either me or Crowley, okay? I didn't want to do this."

Her head shot up. "Do what."

"We looked for another way, we don't have Bobby to help anymore and there wasn't any time."

"Do. What. Dean."

"The ring. Remember? It's perfect!"

"WHAT DID YOU DO, DEAN?" She cried the last words because she knew. She remembered the voice, the electricity. It was a legend she had found in Bobby's books once, and they had laughed about it then. HHhhow absurd it was, how horrible it would be to have your free will removed.

"You bought my soul?" She whispered it to the floor, defeated.

Sam winced.

Dean broke.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"What did you do, Dean?" She cried the last words because she knew.

She remembered the voice, the electricity and the way it filled her every muscle when the decision to hurt Dean entered her mind. It was a legend, a myth, she found in one of Bobby's old lore books. They had laughed about it so easily then, how there was absolutely no way it could be true. How horrible it would be to have your free will removed, to be owned by another being.

"You…bought…me? You tethered my soul?" She whispered it to the floor, defeated, tears slowly making their way over her beaten down wall. Sam winced and froze in his stance, unsure of how he could help in this moment. Absent-mindedly twiddling a seam on his suit with a thread he always meant to fix but forgot about after the job was done.

Dean broke.

"IT WAS CROWLEY! I JUST COULDN'T STAND THE THOUGHT OF-" He was cut off when a pair of arms enveloped his shoulders, her head came crashing into him and for a second he almost fell backwards. "I'm sorry, _I'm so sorry_." He cried. The tears that he had held onto for months, a whole YEAR, poured from his eyes and into her hair. Sam had excused himself to keep watch outside.

They held onto each other and Elizabeth cried for all the lost time, cried because they were finally here. In a little house, in a little town, and she was finally a teacher. She followed her dreams and set up the life they always fantasized about, and he felt like he ruined it. His stupid life struck again and showed him that he, and anyone else who ever met him, could never be happy. Elizabeth had left for school a year before Sam. Dean always thought it was so fitting for Bobby's daughter, the hunter equivalent of a teacher. She was a semester from graduating when John disappeared and when she saw how afraid Dean was, he couldn't keep her from coming along.

 _ **I didn't want this life. Not without you. That's the only reason I did ANY of this, it was for you. I don't like beer or pie enough for a convention of it and I certainly could care less about the old west.**_

 _ **But you did it. You got out. You bought a house and got a 9-5 and I tried to let you have it and I wasn't strong enough. I ruined it.**_

Elizabeth stopped, "You tried to let me have it?" He nodded, and she continued before she lost her nerve. "You knew I was here?" He nodded again, not sure what to say. "Just tell me everything that happened, where were you? When did you get back? Why did you ignore me? I assume you got all those horrible voicemails. You have to understand, I thought you both were dead. I thought I might as well have been talking to a wall."

His eyes closed, and he leaned his forehead to hers, for the first time thankful for the ludicrous bond they shared. Suddenly her vision was full of memories, but she didn't recognize them. She blinked and gasped and almost pulled away, but Dean held her in place and fed them to her. The complete, unabridged recollection of what he had been through the last two years. Benny and Cas in purgatory, Sam's sabbatical and how pissed at him Dean was for leaving the life. For abandoning her. The whole past year they spent looking for a way to close the gates of hell.

As the images passed through her, the emotions left. The anger and the confusion were replaced with sympathy, love and gratitude. She saw herself through his eyes a year ago. She was sitting at a desk in a dusty college library studying for the Praxis. A man brought her a coffee and she remembered that night, too. He was just some pushy jock and she hadn't even bothered to get his name. Three months Dean had spent looking for any alternative, the amount of sacrifice the actual ritual took, and she saw him buying her soul.

The process was hard, and it took him hours of concentration and liters of blood. In the memory, he recited the spell and imagined the details she had told him about the ring years before, on repeat, for hours and slowly the ring forged from the blood, and the pieces of his soul. Her eyes started to tear up again, but this time it was with guilt. His most recent memories slipped through before he could stop it, she held onto the connection and forced him to show her.

Friday night, he felt her put on the ring. He was asleep, and it pulled him awake, he struggled to his phone but couldn't find it. He felt her suffocating, he wanted to stop it but couldn't find his damn phone. Finally, he pulled the hotel phone to his ear. _**SHIT**_. He didn't know her new phone number without looking at his cell. _**Think, think, think.**_ It was a long shot, but he dialed the number of the phone he had given her the night before the Leviathan. It rang, and he could feel her growing weaker. Please, he begged and then the phone clicked on, "Lizzie, BREATHE!" He practically yelled it and waited. And waited.

"D-Dean?" He hung up.

Then it was today when they came to her address and found she wasn't home. He beat on her neighbor's door and when he answered, he happily identified _Mrs. Elizabeth Winchester, 'A nice local teacher, too bad about her husband though. Died in the war.'_ His ears perked up when he had heard it. She had chosen his name, it excited him but filled him with dread. He knew what happened to Winchester women. She smiled through fogged over eyes as he let the memory consume her. His doubts, anxiety, and then seeing her sitting alone on the playground like some weird kid.

It had knocked the wind out of him, her short platinum blond hair was long and brown with soft wavy curls. Her brown eyes were muddy, and he didn't even need the bond to tell that she was hungover. He wanted to laugh, to tell her that he always told her drinking would bite her in the ass, but it wasn't his place anymore. That wasn't his Lizzie.

She frowned. She wanted to be, she could be again. He shook his head; he knew what happened to Winchester women. When they were together before, they had gotten too close, he lost his sense and let her in. He was selfish, and it wouldn't happen again, he was going to keep her safe.

That's when she saw it. He wasn't staying. He was planning on leaving her again. She cut off the connection and tore away from him. Anger filled her, and she almost raised a hand before a warning buzz went off in her head. Elizabeth screamed in frustration and stormed into her bedroom, leaving the door open for him to follow because fuck him if he wanted to leave, he could do whatever else he wanted, too.

"Lizzie, I can't. I can't let you get hurt."

"I was alone for TWO YEARS, Dean! I'm hurt! I'm dead inside, I come home from work and drink all night. I go to school and those kids keep me going but it's no kind of life. My life is with you, it's IN the life. It's how I was raised, it's all I know! There may have been a time that I wanted out, but then I went on the road with you and Sam and now I just can't see any other 'life' anymore."

"It doesn't have to be that way, though."

"YES, ACTUALLY. Now it does because of this stupid ring! I can't have a normal life tethered to you at all times! I can't move on! You know what this means!" Her thoughts sped back to the memory Dean gave her of him and Sam talking about the deal.

" _It says here whoever is owned has to do anything the owner says." Sam read aloud._

" _So, I just don't ever give her orders, that's fine!" Dean said excitedly, he could slip the ring on her finger and aside from the permanent art piece, she could move on. He thought of the guy with the coffee._

" _Well, not exactly. It also says there's a bond between owner and possession. Like they can feel each other at all times; read each other's' minds." Dean gagged, that was a little intimate for his liking. He especially didn't want to feel her having sex with someone else, but if it kept her safe he would do it._

" _It also says that possessions can't hurt their owners, just the thought of it punishes them."_

 _Dean's ears perked, he growled, "What do you mean 'Punishes them'?"_

" _It'll shock them. Whenever they disobey, think about hurting their owner, adultery…"_

" _Adultery?"_

 _"That's right, Dean. She'll never be able to have sex with anyone but you. Ever again." Sam sighed and pulled his arms behind his head. This whole thing was crazy, and it was stupid. But if Crowley was going to do this to her, Dean was definitely the better choice._

 _Dean relaxed, well that wasn't so bad._

"Dean!" Lizzie yelled at him through the memory, as if she had been there the whole time. He shrugged, reliving the scene with her. She threw herself down to sit on the edge of the bed. How many nights had she dreamed, prayed, _begged_ to have him here in her room, and there he was; Flesh and blood. Her eyes traced his body. It was the same, but different.

His stance was guarded, his shoulders rigid and she wanted nothing more than for him to relax. To see the man she remembered, but this man had been through two hard years of life without her. His eyes wore new cracks; his skin was more worn. This wasn't the man she had loved. But she could love him, too.

"No." He warned, but she didn't listen. She was up against him and her lips pressed hard to his, tasting the man she never thought she'd feel again. His lips left whiskey and smoke on her tongue. She shuddered a moan, it was the same, he felt the same. "No, Lizzie."

"I'm no-" Before she could finish her sentence her body flung back from his, she didn't realize why at first. The apologetic look in his eyes spelled it out for her. She obeyed.

"Go to bed, Elizabeth. I'll come by and see you tomorrow." She wanted to cry out and tell him how wrong Elizabeth sounded coming out of his mouth, tell him she changed her mind. She was his Lizzie. But her body moved without her permission, she clumsily threw herself into the bed without protest. When she was snuggled under the covers, Dean spoke again as he flipped off the light and closed the door.

"Sweet dreams."

Her eyes shut and before she could do anything else, the darkness over took her. The dreams flooded in, her mom and dad, the few times they had from before her mother was possessed. The first-time John brought the boys to the house and how happy her dad had been to have them around. Then their first date. It was an all-you-can-eat buffet of all her favorite memories.

Dean sighed from the driver's seat of the Impala. He didn't know what to do next and he thanked his lucky stars that he could at least give her those good dreams. As they pulled out of her drive way and to the motel, they were silent. He pulled into a spot near his room and dragged his tired bones to bed. Finally closing his eyes, he focused on the live stream coming from Liz…Elizabeth's head. She was thinking of their first time in the back seat of the impala. He smiled and slowly drifted off himself, all his favorite moments playing like Cinemax in his mind.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Light trickled into the shitty motel room Dean shared with his brother. As his eyes focused, he saw Sam awake and clicking away on his laptop with two cups of coffee beside him.

"That for me?" Dean gruffed, pulling himself up into a sitting position. He had watched Elizabeth relive their greatest hits for hours before dozing off. He could feel her driving to work now, safe but heart broken. It made him shake, but he couldn't rid the emotion coming from their bond.

"Uh, Yeah. Hey, listen to this, last night a teacher from Lizz- Elizabeth's school was found dead in her home."

"Where?" Dean shot toward his pants on the chair, but Sam calmed him.

"The other side of town, but it says here it was just a heart attack. It only made the news because she was supposed to retire this year. She was old, Dean. It's probably nothing."

"Probably, sure. I still wanna check it out. You coming?" He pushed his second leg into his pants and up around his waist, zipping them and moving quickly to his jacket. Sam looked up with sympathy pooling behind his eyes. Pity even.

"Sam." Dean warned, grabbing the keys and the coffee cup.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Sam sighed and followed him out the door as he hung the do-not-disturb lanyard by the knob and pulled the door shut behind him. By the time he turned to the impala Dean had already started her up. Sam understood, he really did, but he didn't understand why he just wouldn't let himself be happy. He remembered the hours and months Dean put into this spell, the amount of love you must have for someone to rip off a piece of your own soul just to attach it to theirs. If it wasn't so twisted, it would have been romantic.

Dean fumbled with the keys but got the engine to turn over. As soon as Sam shut the door he sped away, straight to the dead teacher's house. It was a long shot, but he had to investigate. He had to make sure she was safe, or else the pain in his chest would be for nothing.

Dean and Sam walked into the small school building with haste, there had been sulfur and broken furniture all over that old lady's house. Dean went in optimistic, but it was obvious she had been attacked. He had tried calling Elizabeth's new phone, but she didn't answer. He knew she wouldn't, but it had been worth a shot.

The small woman at the reception desk smiled sweetly at them when Sam asked where Mrs. Winchester was, but Dean already knew and didn't waste the minute it would take her to look it up. His steps were urgent but nonchalant as he navigated the school easily from the bond between them.

 _ **Why are you here?**_ Her thoughts injected into his mind, harsh and angry.

 _ **That teacher was attacked by a demon, I'm here to protect you. We need to get you out of here.**_

 _ **I don't need you, Dean. Remember? You're only going to get me hurt. LEAVE.**_

 _ **Lizzie, SHUT UP.**_

He sighed because she did. He didn't mean to order her around, but it slipped. He decided he would have to work on it later when she wasn't in danger. He could feel the anger in her rising, but suddenly it disappeared. Dean quickened his pace terrified of what happened and as he turned the corner to her classroom, he froze.

There was a little girl, 8 or 9 years old, wrapped around Elizabeth's waist. Her face was buried in her stomach and Elizabeth had a hand rested on the back of her head. Dean and Sam walked into the room quietly and stood back while Elizabeth soothed the young girl.

"Lisa, what happened?" Mrs. Winchester asked, running her fingers through the blond locks of the little girl. Lisa sniffled and pointed a finger at a boy across the room.

"Gabe hit me!" Mrs. Winchester pulled the little girl back from her a bit and got down on her level.

"Gabe? Come over here please." Dean thought her teacher voice was incredibly sexy, and she glared at him as a shaggy boy around the same age as Lisa walked over with his shoulders slumped. "Why did you hit Lisa, Gabe? I thought you guys were friends." Gabe looked anxious, and Mrs. Winchester felt that it was something cliché.

"You know if you like Lisa, you don't hit her. When you grow up I hope you learn that when you love someone you spend your time making sure they're happy and taken care of instead of causing them pain." Her words were pointed and not at all koi, when Gabe nodded at her words, she dismissed the children and he and Lisa went back to their desks. Elizabeth stood to greet the unwelcome men in her doorway.

"Hello, Agents. How can I help you today?" She said, the sarcasm dripping from her voice. Her thoughts were angry, but Dean spoke anyway, still taking in her advice to Gabe.

"There's been another incident and we feel it's in your best interest to come with us."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Well, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way." Elizabeth huffed. She didn't want her students to see her following orders and she didn't necessarily want to be ordered around.

"Okay, students! This is a great opportunity to learn about civic duty. As citizens of the United States of America we have certain duties and one of those is complying with Government agents! I will be going to aid in an investigation and I hope maybe one day it will inspire you guys into becoming real FBI agents yourselves." She didn't emphasize the word real, but it still stung when it hit Dean in the face. Sam chuckled a little but turned it into a cough when Dean turned his glare at him.

Since she had already filled out the form for a replacement when she felt the impala pull into the parking lot, the sub walked in just as she finished gathering her bags. "Hey, Karen, thanks again for watching the class. I hope this will be the last time it'll happen, but you know how much of a pain in the neck dealing with the government can be." Mrs. Winchester handed her sub a few hand outs and smiled as she laughed at her joke. "Goodbye, everyone!"

The students all yelled their replies, and she walked out of the room with her bags in tow.

They made their way out of the building and Elizabeth headed to her car. "No, I think we should all go in the impala," Dean said, and Elizabeth didn't stop.

"I'm taking my car home and if you don't want me to go alone you can come with me. Or I guess you could just tell me to get in your car." She dared him, but he didn't fight.

"Fine but I'm driving, and don't try to stop me." Her lips sealed shut and though she fought to resist, her hand automatically reached out to hand him the keys. He smiled, "Hey, that's pretty convenient."

Elizabeth thought some choice words in his direction. "We'll meet you back at the motel, Sammy."

The taller brother nodded, hoping into the impala and driving away. Dean rested his hand on the hood of the beat-up Buick he helped Bobby fix up years ago. "This old thing, man." His eyes softened as he opened the door and slid in to the driver's side, pushing the seat back and turning the key in the ignition. It stalled. "Oh, come on, baby. We built you better than that." He gently turned the key again, giving the engine some gas and she sputtered to life. Elizabeth sighed in relief. Every time that old car started she was relieved. It was her last remanence of her dad, and unless he was alive somewhere, too, she wouldn't be getting anymore.

"What are we doing?" Elizabeth asked softly as she watched the love of her life navigate her car out of the parking lot.

"I don't want to fight about this, Lizzie. I don't want to order you around; I just want you to listen." Dean started, and she nodded. She didn't really want to fight either, _ **she just always wanted things to go her way.**_ Dean thought at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm listening, okay?"

"We can't just leave you here, it's not safe. I know you have a house and a life here. I know you want to come with us, but I just don't think you understand what that means." She looked out of the window at the passing town of Granbury, Texas. She memorized its features, her way home, she knew it would be the last time she ever took the route and it excited her. And that scared him.

"You shouldn't be so ready to drop everything you have here and run head first back into danger, Lizzie!" He hit the steering wheel as he scolded her.

"Dean, I know you don't understand. I know you were forced out of your little piece of heaven when Sam came back from the pit and you think you're doing that to me, but you're not. I'm not happy. I am a hunter, Dean! I've been a hunter since I was 5 years old and the demon possessed my mother! I've been a hunter with you and Sam and my dad and John. The only difference between you and me is my vagina and I'm sick of it!" She yelled. She yelled that and about every cuss word he'd ever heard. _**She may be right**_. "I AM right," she yelled at him and they grew quiet.

They were still quiet as she walked through her house, pulling hidden guns and supplies from cabinets and floor boards. Dean was impressed by the sheer number of hiding places she managed to find in 1000 square feet. He carried her bag out to her car and she looked at the house for a long moment.

"We'll come back." He said with a determined authority, and he meant it. She locked the door and climbed into the passenger seat of the car she loved for close to 10 years not sure it'd be around much longer either.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

They were still quiet as she walked through her house, pulling hidden guns and supplies from cabinets and floor boards. Lizzie memorized every piece of dust and imagined the life she had hoped for. Flashes of Dean under the sink with a wrench and little feet running through the hallway dotted her eye sight, but cringed when they were replaced with the image of Crowley, of Lucifer and even Dick. She stared at Dean. He shrugged and avoided her eyes. He was right, they would never have that life, so she kept moving.

Dean was impressed by the sheer number of hiding places she managed to find in a thousand or so square feet. He had enjoyed the visions of the life she projected into the space while she worked. The sink dripped and for a split second he almost hopped down there to fix it. Then she thought of a child. **_A child_**. His reflexes took over and images of their greatest foes poured from his mind. She flinched. It had to be done, he really would never have that life.

When she pulled the last item from her closet and pushed it into the duffle bag, he carried it outside for her. Elizabeth Winchester paused, looking at the house for a long moment, and Lizzie Singer locked the door one last time.

"We'll come back." He said with a determined authority, and he meant it. "And, uh, you can keep the last name, too. If you want." She climbed into the passenger seat of the car she had loved and lived in for the better part of 10 years. Clinging to the seats and trying to smell her Father in them once again.

"We'll park her somewhere safe, Lizzie, I'm not letting go of Bobby that easily either. We'll get her back up to shape, too." He tried to soothe her, but his comforting voice pushed her back to the night before the Leviathan and she closed her eyes for a long moment.

 _"I will come back for you." Dean looked down at his little Lizzie. She wasn't crying but he could see the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She wasn't sad, **hell no** , she was pissed beyond belief because he made her promise to stay back while he went after Dick. His heart pulled as he looked her over, that look could kill a Rugaru from 100 feet, and it turned him on._

 _"Mmhmm." She couldn't see straight for the rage. She wasn't some helpless civilian, she was an asset, another set of capable hands against the latest threat to the world. It wasn't like he asked Sam and Cas to stay back._

 _"I wouldn't forgive myself for putting you in danger. You remember what happened to Jo and Ellen, Lizzie, or your father? We didn't even kill Lucifer that day or get anywhere NEAR Dick." Dean just wanted to spend what might be his last night on Earth banging his lady and she had to go off getting pissed because he wanted to protect her._ Women.

Lizzie huffed from the passenger seat. "Men."

 _"And what if anything happens tomorrow and I'm here painting my nails and watching TV? I will never forgive_ myself _." She spat and ran her fingers through her short hair with a fierce defiance. Her body was thin, strong from weeks of running and eating salads. Her patience was thin, too, and she wasn't about to let Dean Winchester control her life. This isn't how this relationship was going to go._

 _"Lizzie, listen to me," He smoothed her hair and grabbed her close. She let him have his moment, and she memorized the way his shirt rubbed against her cheek and the impossible way he smelled; Like an auto-parts store and a burger place in the most attractive way possible._

"I smell like transmission fluid and French fries?" Dean quipped, she just rolled her eyes and kept thinking.

 _"Dean, I'm going to say this one last time. I am going with you tomorrow. It isn't your decision anyway. I'm a grown woman, and I've trained as long as you. I've hunted with you for years. Just because we have sex now doesn't give you control of me." She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him like the figure head of female oppression. He sighed and pulled her back in close, taking in the smell of roses and mint._

 _"Okay, whatever." Dean wasn't one to give up and he definitely didn't like the idea of the woman he loved in the line of fire, but she was right. He needed her in there. Her face fell, and she pulled back to eye his expression._

 _"What?" Lizzie squinted at the hunter._

 _"You're right. I need you out there. As much as I wish I could hole you up barefoot in some kitchen with a baby on your hip and pies in the oven, you're a hunter and that's why I love you."_

"That was the first time you said it." Lizzie murmured, assuming he was still eavesdropping on her thoughts. "It was the only time you said it."

"We talked about a house, a future! I thought you got it!" Dean replied a little too defensively, "And excuse me for being sent into purgatory the next day! Should've stopped the fight so I could tell my girlfriend I loved her. Right."

 _"I love you, too, Dean." Lizzie's anger dissipated and soon her fingers traced up his chest and around his neck. The feeling of warm skin against his own caused him to shudder. He ran his arms around her waist roughly_ and pulled her closer, pushing his already hardening bulge against her warmth.

"Ookay, moving on." Dean cracked, his voice betraying him. Lizzie smirked.

"Oh, big tough Mr. Winchester can't handle a little sex? Poooor baby." She spoke deeply, crooning her words and sat up in her seat, pushing her shoulders to face him.

"It's not like that, alright? I'm just... I'm driving and it's a distraction." He tried to portray a 'matter-of-fact' demeanor, but the twitch she felt through the bond gave him away.

 _Her fingers outlined his cock from outside his pants, he could feel himself growing by the second. She could see his face twist as she adjusted their weight; Seating him on the edge of that worn out bed. The dim light from the lantern made her skin glow in front of him. He spread his legs and she accepted the invitation, coming to stand chest to chest in between them._

Dean groaned and adjusted himself in the driver's seat. They were so close to the hotel and as soon as he saw Sam, it would stop. He just had to make it.

Lizzie smirked even wider and skipped forward a little in the memory.

 _"Ahhhh! Damn it, Dean! Fuck me!" They were in sync, in a perfect rhythm. She was breathless, glistening with sweat, her tits bouncing wildly as he took her from behind. His cock hit all her right places, his hand grabbed at her breast and soon she was begging for him to send her over the edge._

"Fuck _me_." Dean growled and pulled the car over right the back road they'd been driving. Lizzie's smirk fell and before she had time to process what was happening, Dean was pulling her over the bench seat on top of him.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The fogged over windows offered little in the way of privacy, but the couple didn't care. Lizzie took a deep breath and let it out, recovering from the best release she'd had in two years. Her skin rubbed against his, her bare legs straddling his own hairy ones. She smiled down at him from her perch in his lap, and he smiled up at her. For a moment, everything was right. They were the same people from before, love filled her heart and she pressed her naked chest against his, her head buried into his neck.

"I still love you." She whispered, "Whether you're going to 'let' me or not."

"Yeah. I know." He breathed, and his hands slid over the smooth of her back, it was so different than he remembered. Her tits were huge now, much to his delight, and all her hard muscle was replaced by soft flesh; She was a civilian. The idea terrified him.

"Look, Dean. I'm not asking you to throw me on the front lines tomorrow, I'm out of practice and I know that. I'm not even asking you to love me anymore either. I just… I want you to understand, I _will_ love you and I _will_ be in danger as long as I'm connected to Dean Winchester by a soul leash. It doesn't matter how hard you throw yourself on the sword." His eyes widened with realization and he pushed Lizzie to the passenger side.

"Put on your clothes, Lizzie." He commanded, and she did, with a deep sigh and no control over her tense and aching muscles. He had a determination in his eyes, he had a hold of _something_ and she was along for the ride. She would have smiled with nostalgia if he hadn't missed the entire point of her little speech. "I didn't miss the point, I just found out the point of something else." He defended as he sped toward the motel. He barely shut off the engine before he was inside the room, Lizzie still pulling her black dress on over her head.

He flew into the dingy motel room, and flitted around its perimeter, picking through bags and pushing everything off the tiny table. Sam followed him closing, trying to clean the mess as he made it, he caught his laptop as his brother tossed it over his shoulder. "Dude! What are you doing?" Dean ignored him and continued to gather supplies, Lizzie finally pushed through the door. Her eyes wide in shock.

"He's summoning Crowley." She took another step into the room and locked the door behind her. His thought processes were streaming into her consciousness and as he continued, at full speed, to finish the spell Lizzie explained it out loud. "He thinks it was… a trap… He thinks Crowley tricked him into forging the bond… So he could use it against him."

Sam gaped. It had occurred to him, sure, but the risk had been too great. A bowl went up in flames and the air of the room changed. Darkened.

"Oh, boys! So good to see you! And Lizzie, or should I say Elizabeth?" He aired, hands waiving, he'd been expecting the call.

"You sonofabitch, Crowley. You knew I'd do it! You knew I couldn't let you do it." Dean paced around the Devil's trap, waiving the knife back and forth, knowing it would do him no good. The anger radiating from the hunter excited Crowley, gave him an edge.

"Well, you didn't really think _I_ wanted to be tethered to the bitch, did you? No offense, Kitten." Crowley played his cards, he dotted his 'I's and crossed his 'T's. "But what I could do with a _direct_ link into Dean Winchester's mind! To his _heart._ "

Dean stopped. He had fallen for it, he had fallen for Crowley's goddamned trap and played right into his plan. He had put Lizzie in danger because he was too stupid to figure it out. He growled and charged at the King of Hell, scuffing the trap on his way in. He pulled back his arm and pushed forward with every drop of strength he had. The blade cut only air.

"We have to go. Now." Sam said, already packing his bags. Dean ran through the door, grabbing Lizzie and pulling her into the impala.

"Where are we going?!" She demanded, but Dean didn't say any words, just showed her the image of a safe house she didn't recognize. Sam filed into the passenger seat and Dean peeled out of the parking lot with Lizzie strapped into the backseat.

They drove for hours, no one slept, and they didn't stop. Hours turned into a whole day and then another day. She could see in Dean's mind that they had passed the house already but he drove still, until he felt no one was following them. Her eyes were heavy, her back was sore and her legs felt like they may explode from the cramped back seat. She had built up such a tolerance for long car trips but her time away from the impala spoiled her. Between panicking, she took in the old car. The leather seats, the perfect interior, the finely polished radio cogs. It had been her home for months at a time, she spent hours watching Dean working on it when it wrecked. The car had been utterly destroyed time and time again, but it showed no signs.

"It still pulls to the right when it rains." Dean said, not even realizing her thoughts had been silent, causing Sam to jump.

Lizzie smiled, "You'll probably fix that, too, eventually."

"You're damn straight. It's my Baby!"

Sam groaned. He didn't even know how to process half telepathic conversations. It kind of freaked him out.

Finally, they pulled into the gravel yard of a little wooden cabin, and pushed through the front door. Sam held onto Lizzie while Dean checked the house. It was a small cabin; the great room, if you could even call it that, housed a living room couch, a dining room table and a kitchen. There was a hallway leading to the bedrooms and a doorway leading down a stair case and probably to an armored safe room of some kind. When Dean nodded and Sam lowered his arm, Lizzie stepped inside and gave it a better look.

The couch was dusty, and the TV was from 1986, but it brought with it a nostalgia from her hunting days. Sam excused himself to salt the perimeter, Lizzie nudged her bag off her shoulder and onto the couch and unzipped it, pulling out a few guns she checked and placed strategically.

 ** _What are you doing?_** Dean thought incredulously at her.

 ** _Unpacking?_** Lizzie lifted her shoulders to shrug at the impossible man.

 ** _Why out here?_**

Lizzie gave him a confused look and he closed the distance between them, picking up her bag and walking down the hallway she'd noted before. He turned around when she didn't follow and gestured his head toward the back door. **_You're staying with me._**

"Fat chance, Romeo!" Lizzie scoffed at his audacity. He spent days turning her away, breaking her heart, and now expected her to just shack up with him?

 ** _We had sex._** Dean thought at her, and though the bond showed her exactly how he felt, she was going to make him say out loud.

"Lizzie, I figured since we… you know… it meant we were… you know…" Dean stuttered and Lizzie waited. Sam excused himself to his own bedroom awkwardly. "I mean we… you know… and I thought that meant that we could be… together… again." He was drowning out there ** _. Man was she tough_**.

"Dean, we had sex years before we had any kind of commitment. If you want me to think anything more of _it_ , you have to say so." Lizzie stared him down, making the 6'1'' man suddenly feel like nothing under the eyes of the 5' 2" teacher. He scowled as his twitching member betrayed him. The no strings attached sex was always something he loved about her but now it was biting him in the ass. Why did she have to make this so hard?

"Because you make _my life_ hard, Dean. The least you could do is be up front with me."

"Fine, Lizzie. I love you. I want to be together again and I want you to stay in my god damn room so I can keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe. Now get your ass in there." He barked, she obeyed, but this time a small, satisfied smile formed on her lips. It wasn't the ideal little world she had concocted in her nights alone, but it felt real. Like destiny would ever let them be happy without some catch, and honestly the ability to look into his mind was worth… **_Wait a minute_**.

"You knew I would never be able to have sex with _anyone else ever again_ and you were still going to cut and run?" She fumed a little as the words built in her mouth, they tasted like venom and her face showed it.

Dean just laughed.

His Lizzie. His Lizzie would be worried about the sex. Forget the orders and the party line to their souls, but no sex and Lizzie was losing her mind.

"I would've come back for conjugal visits." Dean purred and winked, "Also, can you imagine brain sex?"

"Brain sex, Dean?"

"Yeah, it's like phone sex but we don't need no phone, baby!"

Lizzie couldn't help it, she laughed out loud.


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

A small breeze from the window A/C tickled Lizzie's nose. She jumped ten feet into the air when her hand brushed a hot, bare back as she moved to scratch her own, "OH! My god." She breathed, and Dean sprang into action.

"What?!"

"I forgot you weren't dead," Her heart regulated, but she was awake now. "What time is it?"

"Uh, 6:30. Good a time as any to head out. I'll go get Sam." Dean mumbled as he pulled his under shirt over his head and wiggled into his jeans. Lizzie giggled at the familiar sight of Dean Winchester, dangerous hunter, struggle to get dressed. Dean rolled his eyes, but felt his lips perk into a small involuntary smile.

"Hey… Guys? Ready to go?" Sam knocked on the door and asked with uncertainty.

Lizzie called back with confidence. "Oh yeah, sorry, Sam! We'll be right out!" and she bounced off the musty mattress with a start. It hadn't been the most comfortable bed she'd slept on, but it was better than being in the back seat of the impala for another minute.

"Hey, be nice to my Baby!" Dean pouted as he helped her gather the contents of her duffle. At least it'll be an honest relationship this time. "Damn, Lizzie, go straight for the jugular."

"I'm sorry, it's going to be hard remembering that you can hear me. I don't really control my secret, private thoughts much."

"Obviously."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

Dean grunted and walked out of the room, Lizzie sighed with relief. She wasn't really offended but she didn't want him to see how turned on she was watching him walk around the room.

"I heard that!" He called back from the hallway of the cabin.

 _Damn_ , she sighed. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she turned around and smashed into something hard and warm. She bounced off but before she could fall, it wrapped its arm around her waist to catch her. "Ah!"

"Lizzie Singer, I am sorry. Did I hurt you?" Big, strained eyes looked down at her and the smell of wet forest and vanilla filled her nose.

"Where have _you_ been, featherhead? I prayed to you for a year!" She took a step back to take in his appearance. He looked rigid and formal, pain oozing from behind his eyes. He looked unbelievably identical to what she remembered, a tornado encased in a calm summer day.

"At first I was trapped in Purgatory with Dean. Then some things happened," Castiel glanced over the woman's shoulder to look at Dean pointedly, the hunter left the room with a downturned expression, "I heard you, but Dean said you were safer if we did not interfere." His voice was gravelly and monotoned to the untrained ear, but she could hear the sudden inflections in his words, a trick that only came with years of battle along-side him. "I really did want to come. Your father asked about you when I saw him in Heaven. I told him you finished school. He was very proud."

"To what do we owe this pleasurable visi- Lizzie?" Dean walked back into the room and saw tears streaming down her face as she wrapped her arms tightly around the angel. "What's going on here?" But he knew, he could feel the sadness and happiness emanating from Lizzie as the memories of her father raced through the bond. She would do anything to bring Bobby back, but she was so happy knowing he was up in his Heaven getting the R&R he deserved.

Lizzie pulled away from Cas and stood on her tip toes, and as soon as Dean realized what she was going to do he tried to stop her, "Lizzie, don't!" but it was too late. The intention of kissing Cas on the cheek was enough to cause a bolt to shoot up through her spine. She crumpled backward into Dean's arms.

"I see you put on the ring." He said, eyeing her as she recovered. As Lizzie recovered she eyed the Angel and closed the distance.

"You're the one who dropped it into my classroom so fast." The Angel nodded seriously.

Dean broke their stare, "I didn't realize it was a trap, Cas. There has to be a way to reverse it." Dean stepped toward them, reaching his hand to rub her back.

"You melded parts of your soul, Dean. The only way I could even imagine being able to undo that would require both of you to rip out large parts of yourselves. And even then, those parts don't just disappear, they would have to be put into something else. It doesn't even seem possible."

Dean sighed, he knew it was a long shot to reverse it. It hadn't been an easy decision in the first place. He felt Lizzie sink even more and decided to change the subject. "Wait until you see the new digs! We're about 18 hours away but trust me, it's worth it."

Her legs groaned at her, but she squeezed into the back seat after saying goodbye to Castiel. He had been to check on their well-being but was quick to disappear upon finding them largely-unharmed. The boys filed into the impala in front of her and soon, and much to her chagrin, they were off on the road again. Back to the grind, she thought, leaning forward to stretch out her back and look over at what Sam was doing.

"How do you get through these trips, Sam? Your legs are as tall as buildings and I know you have less leg room than I do." She questioned, but Sam only chuckled.

"Lots of vegetables. They help with circulation."

Lizzie almost snorted, "Is that why you always eat so healthy? Restless leg syndrome?"

He confirmed, and she made the conscious decision to improve her diet. They continued in silence for hours, and she took it all in; the grey fabric interior above her head, leather seats under, the smell of men in an enclosed space and the sound of classic rock. The SAME classic rock over and over, mind you. It felt like some crazy movie, which is why she figured the Supernatural books were so popular. She had to admit, she had read them herself after she lost everyone, they were quite entertaining.

"You didn't." Dean warned from the driver seat, taking Sam off guard and surprising Lizzie out of her relaxed lull.

"Oh my God! I forgot you could hear me, agh! This is so embarrassing!" She said while jumping back and raising her hands up in surrender, caught red handed in her own secret thoughts. "I couldn't see why not! You guys were gone! I didn't think it would hurt anyone, and they were really well written books. I feel bad for giving Chuck such a hard time!"

"You read the books? We had a pact!" Sam choked on his water as he turned to look at her, mortified just thinking of all the personal information Chuck had used about him.

"They actually weren't that bad! It was eye opening to see things from your perspective Sam! I think it would be good for you guys to-,"

"No." They said it in unison and the topic was dropped. Lizzie thanked her lucky stars and tried to think of something else before she thought about the fanfiction.

"You read _fanfiction_? LIKE BROTHER ON BROTHER STUFF?!" Dean practically yelled and almost swerved off the road before regaining control.

"Not all fanfiction is Male/Male Dean! There were some good ones about us, and the community is incredible. I kept them going for weeks." She said with a sly smile to herself before her hand clamped over her mouth hard, but it couldn't bring back the words she'd already said.

Dean stopped the car in the middle of the empty midwestern highway, "You wrote fanfiction?" His tone was sickly calm, and his head turned slowly around as his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

"It's not like that! It isn't really fanfiction when it's true…"

"You posted our most intimate encounters online?! I'm not a freaking porn star!"

"Well, I mean, actually …" She couldn't get the words out, she finally just shut her mouth and ashamedly melted into the seat. There was nothing she could say that could save her now, she just prayed the rest of the car ride would be uneventful.

Before she realized she had fallen asleep, she awoke just as car pulled up to a large rusted building that looked like the perfect place for a Djinn. A rock sat in her stomach and Dean practically giggled at her reaction.

"Just wait."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

"Men of… letters?" Lizzie tried to wrap her head around the large underground warehouse that she currently found herself in.

"Yeah, our grand-dad was a member and that makes us legacies." Dean explained as he leaned against a large table with a map of the world placed inside, happy to show off his new home. "There's like a hundred bedrooms, a target range, a nerdy library for Sam and one amazing kitchen for you. That is, if you still like to cook." He looked her over unsure.

"But what happens when something finds you down here? You're trapped." She dodged the question.

"Fully warded, baby! Nothing gets in here if we don't want it to." He lifted his eye brows and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Here, Liz. I'll show you to your room." He lifted her bags and started toward the resident's hall. They both ignored Dean as he complained out loud about needing her own room, Lizzie excited to still have her own space. When they were a distance away, she chanced a look up at the overly large man.

"Hey, Sam?" Her voice wasn't strong, he knew what was coming but he nodded anyway. "Why didn't you answer my calls?" He stopped, dead in the water and not sure what to say.

"At first I was looking for a way to get Dean back. I took you to the hospital and they said you were stable but in a coma that could last days or years. I sat with you for a week before I left that hospital. It was another month before I heard from you, and then I kept telling myself to focus on Dean, then come back for you. I couldn't face you without him. Eventually I met this girl and decided it was time to move on, and when I found you in a college town living a normal life, I figured you were happier without us. When Dean showed up I tried to tell him you were okay, but he had to see for himself. He came back that night with his tail between his legs, Lizzie. I'm sorry we didn't tell you, but we wanted you to have what we couldn't." His voice was genuine, a little defeated, and she sighed.

"I won't ask you about what you did, if you don't ask me about what I did." The loose forgiveness was enough for Sam.

"Deal." They continued walking for a few minutes, the bunker's expanse filled her with wonder. Her eyes studied its detail; the stone floors, the cinderblock walls covered in drywall with a rough textured paint that started as a dark forest green but met a solid line half way up and ended in an office space yellowed- white. Her fingers reached out to feel the texture as they walked, "It's salt infused. The Men of Letters were an organization that did more than just hunt monsters, they eradicated them."

Lizzie felt her eyebrows meet her already wide eyes, "Eradicated them?" She thought of Garth, Lorraine and of all the monsters she met that were good decent people who had something unfortunate happen to them. It felt too black and white. It felt like genocide. But then she thought of all the good people they lost. Her father, Ellen, Jo and Ash. John and Mary. Her own Mother.

"Yeah, and they still got to live normal lives. I mean, our Grandfather had a wife and Son in town. Could you imagine?" His face was glowing. Poor Sam, he just wanted to be normal. She shook her head and kept walking, taking in room after room. "My room is here, 214 and Dean's is 216. You can have any of the rooms, but it's safest near us. I cleaned and aired out 217 before we left." He stopped in front of a propped open door, a golden 217 glistened above it. "It's good to have you back, Lizzie, but I really am sorry I left you all alone."

And he really was. Lizzie couldn't stay mad at him for giving her exactly what he always wanted, "I'm sorry your life didn't work out either, Sam. I don't… I don't blame you. You only gave me what you've fought so desperately for all these years. What I thought I was always fighting for… but I…" She stopped and contemplated her words, it needed to sound perfect. "I realized I wasn't fighting for a normal life, a picket fence and children… Well, I _was_ fighting for that, but I wasn't just fighting for that. I was fighting for something better. I was fighting for family." Lizzie put a hand on Sam's arm, " _My family_. You and Dean. And that normal life means nothing without you." She made sure he was watching her, _"Both_ of you. Thanks for knowing I'd want my own room Sam and not holding it against me that I didn't appreciate your gift, but I do understand where it was coming from. Thank you."

Sam breathed a small relief as his stomach muscles released the tension he'd been holding for over a year. He didn't know what it was like to have a sister, but he assumed it was like this. The comradery he'd always had with Dean, but with a sweet understanding instead of tough love. He really had missed it. He gave her a nod and a smile before setting her bags into the room and giving her space.

Lizzie took a long look around her new home. The paint and color scheme continued into the room and she was suddenly very aware it was abandoned in the 1950s. She could tell Sam had dusted to the best of his ability, but there still stood a thin layer of dust on a few things. The bed was freshly made, though, and tucked with military precision and a little love. A shelf lined the wall behind the bed, and it was mostly empty except for an old radio and a lamp. Across from the bed was desk, it also held a lamp, but nothing else.

"Well, how's your new _private_ room?" Dean sneered from the still open doorway, his arms crossed as he leaned against its frame.

Lizzie only smiled, "I love it. It's so… you know it's perfect in some ridiculous _us_ kind of way." She closed the distance and smoothed against the pouting hunter, her arms wrapped around his rigid neck and her body pressed against his still crossed arms. "Dean, you're alive. You're alive and you're here in front of me." Her words were spoken into his neck, and soon her warm breath melted his stance and he flowed around her to scoop her up and carry her to the bed.

"Hello, Thank you! I've been saying that!" He set her down and laid beside her, his arms still wrapped around her tight. "I never thought I'd get to have you again, Liz. I thought you were gone, and it killed me, but I felt even more guilty for wanting to bring you back into this. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't let you have that life." His face buried into her chest and he felt the guilt rise into shame-filled tears. She wrapped her arms around his head, running her fingers through his hair and memorizing the feeling.

"Dean, I…" She knew she couldn't just repeat herself, he needed more. Something real, something he couldn't just feel through the bond. "I did enjoy aspects of that life. I had a smart phone which was pretty cool, I'm _definitely_ keeping that. I loved teaching kids. I loved owning a home and being able to buy cute things to fill it." He looked up at her with red eyes, listening to her every word, she felt his sadness. "But I didn't make one real relationship with anyone after you disappeared from that office building, I guess. Which, can we talk about that? What the hell is up with our lives?"

"Lizzie." He warned.

"Right, sorry, anyway." She got back to her point, "I spent the entire time as an empty shell following what I thought you wanted me to do, to honor your memory. I did what my dad wanted me to do. Hell, I did what Sam wanted to do and finished college. I was still doing what I have always done, Dean, what I will _always_ do." Lizzie stopped to look down at her love, "I was living for my family."

He got it, he really did. He did the same thing the year he thought Sam was in the cage. He lived the life his brother had wanted him to. He ran off with Lisa and left Bobby and Lizzie to hunt without him. Dean remembered how he felt when he found out Lizzie knew Sam had been around the entire time; Angry, of course, but mostly at how much time he wasted living a life he thought Sam wanted, when all he really wanted was Sam. "I get it, Princess."

"That's a relief. I didn't want to have to break out the womanly whiles and seduce you." Lizzie laughed.

"You're such a dork," Dean pushed her onto her back, "And _you_? Seduce _me_? Oh no, Singer, I think it'd be the other way around." He buried his face into her neck and she laughed, the first hardy laugh she'd had since she woke up in that hospital. She felt whole.

 ** _I missed you._**

 ** _And I missed you._**

The words pushed through the bond as Dean pushed off her clothes, hungry to see her body all over again. She was different then the continued companion in his spank bank, but he loved her new body. It curved in all the right places. Lizzie pushed him away, "I'm sorry, spank bank?" Dean growled and pulled closer, enveloping her lips and eating her words.


End file.
